Slow Dancing in a Burning Room
by Cumberbatch Critter
Summary: Sherlock teaches John to slow dance because, in a month, society dictates that John and Mary must be the first two people to dance on their wedding day. Of course Sherlock hates it. The dancing bit. And the losing his best friend bit. But he just puts on his annoyed face and teaches John to dance... because John's leaving him. Sherlock has to make the most of it.


**Slow Dancing in a Burning Room**

"I thought you were so excited about this," Sherlock said, his voice devoid of emotion.

"I am, I just don't think you should be the one teaching me to dance," John said uncomfortably.

"Well, you won't dance with anyone that you're not totally comfortable with. You're not as close with anyone else as you are with me, so the logical assumption is that you would _want_ me to teach you. I assure you, I think the whole concept of marriage is stupid-"

"As you keep telling me," John muttered.

"- and I'm trying to be good about this, when you really don't deserve it, so either you want to learn to dance or not."

"Fine!" John said. "Fine, I just... I'm rubbish at this."

Sherlock looked at him dully.

"Really, Sherlock. Rubbish," John continued. "And I already _know_, so you don't need to comment on it."

Sherlock stood. "I'll lead."

"What? Why? I need to be leading Mary!"

"Yes, you will," Sherlock said calmly, "but you couldn't lead right now if you wanted to. So, do us all a favour and put your hand on my waist."

John's face flushed.

This

was why Sherlock shouldn't be teaching him to dance. It was way too embarrassing.

"Oh, for goodness sake. You're getting _married_ in a month! Stop being embarrassed when the slightest euphemism to our relationship crops up! Now, put your hand on my waist."

John swallowed and moved forward, feeling incredibly awkward at he followed Sherlock's instructions.

Sherlock was right. John knew that Sherlock was right. He _was_ getting married in a month and he shouldn't be worrying about if people still thought that they were gay. They weren't. It was obvious, given the wedding in a month. But, really...

"Give me your other hand."

John placed his hand in Sherlock's, struck by, as usual, the warmth that Sherlock held. Not that John thought about it much, but with his brutal attitude, sharp insults, and blatant disregard for anything sentimental, along with his gaze that was always piercing cold like ice unmelting ice chips, Sherlock seemed like he would be _cold_. But, he wasn't. He warm and his hands were smooth and soft and unmarred by the experiments he was always working on. He seemed to radiate warmth, an odd sort of tranquility that would invite anyone in.

It was funny, because it was the complete opposite of the façade that Sherlock tried to keep up.

"Stop being so tense," Sherlock mumbled.

"Can't help it," John muttered.

"I'm serious. With your two left feet, this is going to be difficult enough and I'm not starting with the basics."

"What?" John looked up at him. "No, you need to start with the basics!"

"Too boring."

"Sherlock!"

"It's just foot work."

"Show me?"

Sherlock sighed heavily, taking John's arms and draping them around his neck.

"And I'm still playing the woman."

"Yes."

"Great."

Sherlock placed his hands on John's waist, exerting only the slightest pressure. "Now, it's simple. Watch my feet. Step out, together, step out, together. Don't just shift your weight from one foot to the other; men tend to do that to cheat and it looks ridiculous."

"Okay..." John mumbled, watching Sherlock's movements.

"Try it."

John copied the movement that Sherlock had just demonstrated, although his feet felt clumsy and awkward.

"No, no, no, don't stomp. Slide your feet... Yes, that's better."

John looked up. "Good?"

"I said it was better, it's far from good. You're still too tense. Dancing is light-hearted, meant to be fun and free. You're not relaxed and it's showing."

"I'll work on that," John muttered, although he knew his chances of relaxing while he was dancing with Sherlock was slim to none. "Next?"

Sherlock's fingers tapped lightly against John's side and he resisted the urge to squirm.

"Note my placements," Sherlock said. "You'll be dancing as the man, obviously, come your wedding day, and your hands need to be on her waist. With the addition of high heels, Mary will be slightly taller than you. This works with us; we're switching." Sherlock removed his hands from John's waist and instead draped them around John's neck. "My waist."

"Yeah, I got it." John placed his hands awkwardly on Sherlock's- skinny- waist.

"Good. You're on sparkling form."

"I can't really fail at this."

"I know," Sherlock retorted. "Which is why I was going to bypass this stage, but since you insisted. Now, we add the movement. Be sure that you step out in the same direction that I do. We'll start with the left."

"Wait, my left?"

"Yes."

John watched Sherlock's feet and copied the movement- step out, together, step out, together- finding that they matched well enough.

"John."

John looked up. "Hm?"

"You can't stare at her feet when you're dancing with her. Given her dress, you won't be able to actually _see_ her feet."

"Right."

They fell into a comfortable silence, John imagining music to their silent dance. This was simple enough, but Sherlock said that this was the basics.

"Enough of that," Sherlock said after a bit. "Now." He took one of John's hands, placing it in his own. "This is the same basic foot work, but with less of a boring posture. No, don't look at my feet," he said as John began to look down. "You just learned the foot work, look at my face."

John sighed, looking at Sherlock again.

"Just follow my lead," Sherlock said, pinning his gaze on John's.

John didn't look away, although he hated that stare. He also, however, knew that that gaze meant that Sherlock was thinking.

"What are you thinking about?" John asked, matching Sherlock's foot work clumsily.

"You," Sherlock replied.

"What about me...?"

"Your marriage."

John tried not to sigh, but he wasn't very successful. He knew that Sherlock didn't approve of the wedding... and John assumed it was because it meant John was moving out, leaving Sherlock. The detective would never admit it, John was sure, but he could read it in his gaze sometimes when Sherlock thought he wasn't looking.

He couldn't help it. John had always wondered if he would ever find a woman that could put with Sherlock, and now he had, and he was happy. He was, at the same time, sad, because he knew Sherlock was miserable with the idea and he would never, ever tell him.

"This is not the end of us, Sherlock. Whatever 'we' are, it's not the end of it," he said forcefully. "I'm still going to accompany you on cases and make sure you eat lunch and sleep now and again. I'm not cutting you out, I'm just adding someone in."

Sherlock didn't respond, except a slightest flicker of something that John couldn't read passed his quicksilver eyes. "We're turning."

John frowned. "What?"

"Turning. Move your _feet_!"

"Oh!" John looked back at Sherlock's feet to mirror the movements. They managed a full circle without John tripping once. It left him feeling rather chuffed, but Sherlock didn't seem pleased.

"That will get you through your first slow dance. It's boring, but as is slow dancing usually is." Sherlock removed his hands, letting John's hands drop back to his sides. "Do you want to try with a quicker dance or do you want to put this to music?"

Thinking it best not to overcrowd his mind, John replied with a simple "With music".

"Anything in particular?" Sherlock asked, picking up his mobile. "Oh, let me guess. Your stupid wedding song."

"It's not stupid..." John mumbled.

"It's sentimental, therefore stupid," Sherlock said, but he was typing on his mobile, and a few seconds later, the soft notes of John and Mary's wedding song filtered through the air.

_Wise men say_  
_only fools rush in._  
_But I can't help_  
_falling in love_  
_with you._

"Tell me this isn't stupid," Sherlock said, placing his arms around John's neck.

"It's not stupid," John replied, placing his hands on Sherlock's waist again. "It's romantic. And fitting."

"Ugh."

_Shall I stay?_  
_Would it be a sin?_  
_I can't help_  
_falling in love_  
_with you._

_Like a river flows_  
_surely to the sea._  
_Darling, so it goes,_  
_some things are meant to be._

John relaxed into the music and, by default, Sherlock's arms. He wasn't consciously aware of it, but Sherlock noticed it immediately.

He did not say anything.

As soon as he would mention it, John would tense up again. And, like he had told John, dancing was meant to be free, not tense and restrained.

Why had he agreed to this?

He wondered himself, wincing imperceptibly as John stepped on his bare foot.

"Sorry..." John murmured.

Maybe because he thought that he was losing his blogger. (He was.)

_So, take my hand_  
_and take my whole life, too._  
_'cause I can't help_  
_falling in love_  
_with you._

John knew. As much as Sherlock was trying to not let him realize how much it was hurting him to see his best friend get married, Sherlock knew that John realized it. This teaching-him-to-dance lark probably wasn't helping, Sherlock realized, but it meant dance sessions for different types of dances; it meant a reason for John to be at 221B Baker Street and not at Mary's flat.

It meant maybe the last few private moments that he was ever going to have with John.

Things _were_ going to change, despite how John said they wouldn't. They would. Sherlock knew. He knew, but he didn't deter John from saying that they wouldn't. It was nice, he guessed, the sincerity behind the statement.

John would try to not let things change, but Sherlock was already prepared. As prepared as he could be.

Losing his only best friend wasn't something that he did everyday.

_'Cause I keep falling in love_  
_with you._

The music trailed off.

"Very good," Sherlock rumbled, removing his arms.

John sighed, stepping away. "Don't condescend me, Sherlock, it was rubbish. I stepped on your foot."

"Yes, perhaps you shouldn't wear shoes while we do this. Or perhaps I should," he said idly, walking to the kitchen. "But I wasn't lying. It wasn't terrible. You relaxed."

"... Did I?"

Sherlock smiled absently, pouring himself a cup of tea. "You did. Your two left feet turned into a proper set of left and right." When he looked back at John, John was grinning. "Don't let it go to your head. You have a _long_ way to go before you're at the level of my skill."

"Don't have to be at your level," John said. "Just have to be able to dance at my wedding." He joined Sherlock in the kitchen. "Anything in? I'm starving."

Sherlock smiled behind his mug.

Yes, things were about to change. But, no, they hadn't changed yet.

Best to make the most of it, then.

"There was but then a beaker of stomach acid exploded in the fridge and now it's all inedible," he said idly, brushing past John to find the sugar.

* * *

**This turned out being a LOT more sentimental and serious than I meant it to be. 3: I know _Slow Dancing in a Burning Room_ isn't the song that John and Sherlock dance to, but I got that song as a title and it wouldn't leave. They _are_ slow-dancing, and, to Sherlock, their whole friendship is burning. Everything's crashing down upon his ears and BAM- _Slow Dancing in a Burning Room_.**

**I do not own _Sherlock_, I do not own _Slow Dancing in a Burning Room_, and I do not own _Can't Help Falling in Love (With You)_.**

**Thank you!**


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